For the Fallen
by Girlbender875
Summary: Vignettes of how characters from the saga confront and handle death of those dear to them. Obi-Wan, Anakin, Ahsoka, Leia, Luke, and Rey.


**This is my first time writing Rey's POV, so feedback would be appreciated. Hopefully each character has a distinctive voice. Anyway, enjoy! :)**

* * *

Obi-Wan had seen death many times, had seen its consequences, its scars… but never once had he thought about what would happen when he was the one to bear such scars. In the life of a Jedi, one never dealt in what-if scenarios – they wasted time unless necessary for creating a plan of action. There was never any reason for Obi-Wan to think about what would happen when Qui-Gon died. Guiltily, he found himself admitting that he'd always assumed Qui-Gon would simply be there. Why wouldn't he? The Jedi Master was skilled beyond Obi-Wan's comprehension, powerful and attuned to the Force, and always far wiser than Obi-Wan ever could be.

So why was he standing here, hood drawn, gazing at a burning pyre?

The small tower was cramped and growing ever hotter from both the flames and the amount of people. Obi-Wan was starting to grow nauseous. He gazed stoically at the fire, but the longer he looked and saw the flesh peel back from the bone, the sicker he felt. He shouldn't watch. But he couldn't look away, he _had_ to watch, he _had_ to see the body burn, to scorch the sight into his memory. If the last memory he had of Qui-Gon was the man lying in his arms he wouldn't have closure, he wouldn't have the finality required to let go and move on. He had to see this.

Once he left this tower, he would never see Qui-Gon again. He would forever hear his master's last words ringing in his ears… and though he was remiss to admit it, it _hurt_ that the last thing Qui-Gon had ever said to him was a request to train a boy who was still essentially a stranger to both of them. He supposed it was how his master was, though – always focusing on the living Force, always concerned with helping others. Of course he wouldn't spend his last moments telling Obi-Wan how much he cared for him.

The newly knighted Jedi shifted uneasily.

This was the way of things. All people died. He shouldn't be upset by it, shouldn't be afraid of it, shouldn't feel such utter emptiness at the thought of never looking at his master's face again. Obi-Wan was a Jedi. He wasn't supposed to have an attachment to anything or anyone. He wasn't supposed to scream out through the bond with the full knowledge that no one would ever answer again.

He wasn't supposed to feel this alone.

The flames eventually grew so hot and tall that he could no longer see Qui-Gon's body. Obi-Wan was grateful for that.

 _There is no death; there is the Force_. Obi-Wan sighed imperceptibly, trying to fully understand those words. His master was in a better place now, one with all the life that he so loved. Simply _thinking_ that made his throat clench and he fought ferociously to maintain control.

"What will happen to me now?"

Obi-Wan nearly jumped, startled out of his musings by the youngling beside him. The boy gazed at him with such wide, fearful eyes. Fear. They all sensed it. None of them thought he should be trained… not even Obi-Wan. But he'd made a promise, and as irrational as it was, he would keep it for his master's sake.

"You will become a Jedi," Obi-Wan assured the boy. "I promise."

The boy nodded solemnly, his eyes drifting back to the pyre. Obi-Wan wasn't sure if Skywalker understood what had really happened, what this all meant. He knew the boy wasn't so young that death was unknown to him, but such concepts felt so disjointed from everything else at that age. He hoped dearly that he wouldn't have to explain any of this to the boy, but as he watched him, he recognized the knowledge in the boy's eyes, the familiarity with this situation. Anakin had seen this happen before. Obi-Wan sighed, looking back at the pyre.

 _Good-bye, Master,_ he whispered to the Force, and then he closed his eyes, thinking to tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after, thinking to the future, to the boy's training, to everything but this moment. His master would be forever missed, but he was gone, and Obi-Wan had to let him go. He had a Padawan to train.

Life always continued to move on. _There is no death; there is the Force._

* * *

Anakin was no stranger to death. He couldn't even remember when he saw his first killing, mainly because he'd seen so many in his youth that it had started to become normal, especially when he was owned by Gardulla. Hell, one time when he'd been separated from his mother for almost a year while owned by Gardulla, a large group of younglings had decided to run away, had to decided to let their detonator chips activate so they could run through the stars and never be enslaved again. They'd almost taken Anakin with them, almost convinced him to accompany them. Anakin had snuck through the halls, adamant to find his freedom any way possible, and it seemed the most logical thing to do at five years old.

And then he'd seen his mother.

She'd sat beside Gardulla, dressed horrendously like all the other slaves. But unlike the others, who either gave in to their positions, simply doing as they were told or looked miserable, his mother had been radiant. She'd sat straight, holding herself with dignity but not defiance. She'd somehow been the perfect balance of retaining humanity whilst avoiding trouble. And something about her gaze, her confidence in herself, had stopped Anakin short of running with all the others. She'd even caught sight of him, and the pure love and relief had made her glow in the darkness around her. She'd managed to sneak over to him, and after he'd explained what was happening, she'd made him swear to _never_ do such a thing again, to _never_ throw his life away.

So no, Anakin was no stranger to death… but he'd always been terrified of it. Not for himself, not really – he knew he wasn't supposed to die yet because he hadn't finished helping others. He _knew_ that. He couldn't die until he fulfilled the prophecy, at least he _supposed_ that's what was supposed to happen. But those around him… they weren't bound by any ridiculous prophecy, they weren't encapsulated in this bubble of Fate that would keep them safe.

And of all the people he worried about most, of all the people he loved and adored the most… why _her_? _Why?!_

Anakin stared at the small stone the Lars family had placed at his mother's grave. Cliegg was saying some eulogy or another, but Anakin wasn't even listening, didn't even care. It didn't matter what Cliegg or Owen or Beru had to say—they'd failed her as much as Anakin had, if not more. And he _knew_ he'd failed her; he'd been having visions about her being in pain for a month, the _entire period_ she'd been held captive by the Tuskens. The Force had been trying to tell him, and he hadn't listened. Hadn't trusted his own instincts, had instead believed _Obi-Wan_ when he'd said dreams passed in time.

To think that he could have _stopped_ this, that he could have _saved_ her – it made him angrier than any hatred he felt for the Tuskens. For all he'd done to that tribe, for all the blood on his hands, he wanted nothing more than to tear his own heart out for making such a mistake. But he'd promised his mother he'd never do that, and there was no point to it, anyway – what good would he do if he was dead? How would he help Obi-Wan, how would he protect Padmé?

He would never let go of this moment. Whenever he felt tired, whenever someone told him he wasn't ready for the next training assignment, the next teaching, he would always remember this moment, this pain. He would always envision his mother's broken body in his mind and would tear himself with that emptiness. He deserved nothing less, and it would at least drive him to push himself harder, to progress faster, to be _stronger_.

Anakin slowly walked over to his mother's grave after Cliegg finally finished speaking. He knelt down in front of the stone and ran his hand through the sand, hating the texture but desperate for some sort of physical connection with his mother.

"I wasn't strong enough to save you, Mom," he whispered to her, feeling his own self-loathing and sorrow fighting to surface. "I wasn't strong enough…"

Choking down the tears attempting to escape, Anakin glared determinedly at the gravestone, his fist clenching around the sand he'd grabbed. "But I promise you… I won't fail again."

He never broke a promise to Mom. And he would never feel this way again. He would protect the ones he loved, he _would_ be there for them, he _would_ keep them safe. Secretly he made the promise to all of them, not just his mother, but to Obi-Wan, Padmé, and Palpatine as well.

He would never let them go.

* * *

As soon as she'd boarded an LAAT shuttle for the first time Ahsoka had known she was going into a war, and she'd known what that would entail. At least she'd thought she'd known. It still didn't change the sheer terror of battle and almost being killed nearly every second, the panic at not knowing what to do, the pain of injury, the ripping sensation in the Force when a life was lost.

Her master rarely seemed bothered by it, or at least he didn't show it to her often. Occasionally he would be more somber than usual, but something about it felt choked or muted. Ahsoka wasn't sure what to make of it, but she tried to emulate his stoic behavior, tried not to fall apart every night when she thought of all the troops they'd lost that day.

But today was different.

Ahsoka had never seen a funeral with such grandeur, such scale. As she walked up the stairs towards the royal palace of Onderon, she was strikingly reminded of the last funeral she'd attended and she nearly felt sick. She'd thought back then that Obi-Wan had died, had _died in her arms_. She'd been so traumatized by it, absolutely paralyzed by the gut wrenching realization that the great Obi-Wan Kenobi would never wake up. She'd never been particularly close to Master Kenobi, but they had been friends, and seeing her master in such pain only made it a million times worse. Like her master, Ahsoka was similarly upset about that deception, but this… this was no deception, and the circumstances were far, _far_ different.

The night Master Kenobi had faked his death, he'd been injured and Ahsoka had promised to look after him. She'd tried using the Force to wake up, she'd tried cleaning the wound, she'd tried _everything_ to keep him supposedly alive, and she'd failed… but she hadn't been a trained healer, and she knew that she'd done everything she could. She'd been at peace with that, at least. But here… here she'd been carrying Steela with the Force and had _dropped her_.

Her shoulder suddenly hurt as she climbed the last step, sharply reminding her of why she'd dropped her. She hadn't been expecting one of the turbolasers to still be active, hadn't expected to nearly have her shoulder ripped off. But still… she felt like she should have lifted Steela faster, and now, staring at her covered body only made that thought all the more pressing.

Ahsoka stared at the white sheet for the longest time. She knew it wasn't her fault, and no one blamed her. She'd started to accept the fact that it was just one of those circumstances that happened. She knew it was probably the will of the Force. But a small part of her was still guilty, and an even smaller part was angry that the Force would do such a thing. She knew she had to accept what had happened, and she could, but…

Sighing heavily, Ahsoka tried to ignore the heaviness in her chest and the knotting in her stomach. Steela was gone, and nothing would bring her back, but they had accomplished the mission. They had won. Onderon was free.

The small angry part of her grew more notable. Of all the things to kill Steela, it had to be Ahsoka messing up at the _end of the battle_? She couldn't have gone down fighting? Why did she have to die at all?

Ahsoka shook her head. By this point she'd realized there was no merit in asking _why_ a person died, only _how_. Bowing slightly, she paid her final respects and turned towards her fellow Jedi. She saw the proud look on Master Kenobi's face, and the worried look on her own master's face. He understood her frustration, her guilt. She took some comfort in that, at least.

As she walked towards her master, Ahsoka pushed the pain away, pushed the doubt and guilt out of her mind. There was no point in lingering on it anymore. They had a war to fight. She would learn and move on. She had to.

* * *

Leia had never been the most emotional person. She'd been known to have a temper, but not to let it cloud her judgment (though it did color her words more often than her parents liked). As such, she'd always been an effective leader, and her ability to relate to others and her aptitude with politics made her an inspiration to the Rebel Alliance. She was stubborn, resilient, and didn't fear anything.

But none of that meant anything at this point. Alderaan was gone.

 _Alderaan was gone_.

She couldn't even fathom it properly. She'd seen it blow up, she'd felt her heart shatter into a million pieces, she'd heard her mind screaming so loudly and then suddenly grow quiet. Her parents were dead, her _people_ were dead. _Everything_ was dead.

Leia was certain that if this could actually sink in she would be furious, or sobbing. But it just _couldn't_ _sink in_. How could one comprehend the destruction of their entire planet? It almost felt like she'd been watching a holovid rather than an actual feed of what was occurring. It felt so surreal. No matter how it felt, though, everything else felt even more distant in comparison – escaping wasn't even a priority anymore, the Rebels were nonexistent in her mind… nothing mattered. She just… didn't feel anything but shock.

Alderaan was gone.

As time passed, she shifted in her cell, and the reality started sinking in, bit by bit. Every single face of every Alderaanian she knew passed through her mind, and then she lingered on her parents. Her _parents_. Stars above, her parents were _gone,_ they were _dead_. She felt her breath come out in half panicked rasps, and then she would get control of herself until she started to think about it again.

Eventually Leia started to pace the cell, though it wasn't for desire of doing something so much as releasing the sudden burst of nervous energy. Nothing existed outside the cell, not in her mind, not until she could get herself together.

 _Alderaan was gone_.

How could an _entire planet_ be gone?!

Leia took a deep breath. It had all been so sudden. The last conversation she'd had with her father was about something concerning the senate. Blast, she couldn't even _remember_ what it had been about – it had been so mundane, it hadn't even been about the Alliance. Leia leaned heavily against the wall, but she refused to cry, because the more the reality settled in, the more she remembered her own situation, and she would _not_ show weakness to her enemies.

She didn't dare say goodbye, didn't dare think it. The closure of her time with her parents would be as abrupt as the explosion had been; she wouldn't lengthen the pain, she wouldn't linger on it. She had to keep Tarkin away from the Alliance, had to hope and pray that somehow her message had gotten to Obi-Wan Kenobi. She would gladly sacrifice her life if it meant the Death Star would be destroyed.

Leia sat on the bench once more, finally calm. Alderaan was gone. The Empire had destroyed it. She would accept that. She would always remember them, and she would ensure that they were the _last_ victims of Imperial tyranny. One way or another, Leia would ensure this never happened again.

Wherever her parents were, they were in a better place. Determination coursed through her, strengthening her resolve, making her heart beat harder and faster. She would ensure justice prevailed. She would remember Alderaan.

* * *

The night was chilly, but the coldness that Luke felt inside him didn't originate from the weather. He stood alone in the forest watching a burning pyre. A part of him felt drained, a part of him felt ecstatic, a part of him felt relieved, and a part of him felt depressed.

It had been such a long day. His body ached, his muscles still twitching from the brutal electric attack he'd received from the emperor. He could sense the happy life around him, the joy in the Force singing across the stars. He could sense the darkness seeping away, the heavy blanket of the Dark Side torn away to reveal beautiful unending Light.

Despite all of this, Luke couldn't help but feel as if he'd just been deprived of the thing he'd wanted the most.

It was selfish, he knew that. Everyone was overjoyed – they'd destroyed the second Death Star, the emperor was dead, and so was his second-in-command. Darth Vader was gone. Luke was happy for that, he was _glad_ Darth Vader was gone, because that meant his _father_ was there… but then he'd lost him too.

It was foolish to be truly upset about it; Luke had witnessed firsthand that powerful Jedi could visit the living beyond the grave. But it wasn't the same thing; seeing the occasional ghostly aura of Ben Kenobi wasn't the same as having him physically beside him. Seeing a ghostly image of his father wasn't the same as hugging him and telling him he loved him, telling him he was proud to be his son, and telling him that he was thrilled beyond words to just _be_ with him.

With a pang of regret, Luke knew he would never be able to do such things. At the same time, he also knew that the events that had come to pass weren't necessarily terrible, either. He missed his father already, but… he knew he'd be at peace this way. And that brought Luke peace too. As the flames continued to burn, Luke felt the heat warm his soul, bringing a gentle somewhat sad smile to his face.

Taking a deep breath, Luke let go of his remorse. The Force was strong with him, and those who died joined with the Force, though he wasn't entirely sure if that simply meant they faded into it or retained their personhood. He'd like to think it was the latter, and only the truly gifted could reach across to the living once more. In either case, his father was finally at peace, and though Luke didn't know the true story of what had happened to him, he could sense the great relief that brought to the galaxy itself let alone to his father.

Fireworks exploded overhead, snapping Luke out of his musings, and his smile grew. Looking back at the pyre, he realized this wasn't a time to mourn, but a time to celebrate. His father was finally free, and so was the rest of the galaxy. He remained long enough to extinguish the remnants of the fire, and then he smiled up at the heavens as if he were smiling at Anakin Skywalker himself.

 _Let's go to the party, then,_ he whispered both to himself and his father, rushing off to find his sister.

* * *

Rey felt like a despicable person.

She'd spent most of her life on her own, and as a result had really felt little loss or attachment to anyone. She wasn't someone who disdained attachment so much as someone who already _was_ connected to other people and was simply waiting for their return. A part of her had privately accepted that they never were coming back, but she continuously denied it, hell bent on seeing them again, determined to not miss their return. As the years had gone by, she'd grown lonelier, but she'd never entirely lost hope.

So how was it that if she was that strong, she fell apart like this?

Rey had barely known Capt. Solo, but he'd quickly endeared himself to her. How could she _not_ enjoy being around him? Considering how much time she spent alone, she _knew_ he was filling that gap, being the father figure she sorely missed. She'd so desperately wanted to travel with him, but her connection to her family remained stronger. Now she regretted that decision. She herself knew her family was gone, and she'd wasted what precious little time she'd had left away from Solo.

His death wasn't her fault. She wasn't foolish enough to assume that. But to see him fall…

It wasn't even her sorrow at his loss that bothered her so much, though. It was that she was relying on his _wife's_ comfort. As if the woman didn't have enough problems on her own – she'd just lost her _husband_ , and now she was taking care of Rey.

As soon as they'd landed at the Resistance base, Chewbacca and Gen. Organa had exchanged knowing glances, and the Wookiee had placed his hand on her shoulder as she'd looked away for a moment, lost in her own emotions and thoughts. Rey hadn't wanted to interrupt, had tried to ignore the pair altogether, had tried to push past the tears that were already starting to escape, but the general had noticed her and had gone straight to her. And blast it all, as soon as Rey had seen that knowing, sad look on her face, she'd just fallen apart.

They'd held each other for the longest time, grief stricken beyond words and understanding what the other person wanted to say. Nothing needed to be said. Rey was eternally grateful for Leia's compassion, but it made her feel even worse. Eventually, though, she stopped with the self-pity and pulled away, getting a hold of herself. Nodding and trying to smile, she thanked the general from the bottom of her heart. Gen. Organa smiled in return, the epitome of strength and resolve.

Rey eventually left the general, who immediately returned to her duties of looking after the Resistance troops. It was astonishing that she could keep going like that, and Rey decided she needed to do that too. She'd never really given much thought to death and what happened to those after they died, but she knew that wherever Capt. Solo was, she could no longer reach him and vice versa. Others, though, like Finn, were still alive and needed help. Others, like Luke Skywalker, needed to be found, needed to be cared for. And others, like Kylo Ren, needed to be _stopped_.

Rey made no promises to ensure no one died again. She wasn't foolish enough to assume she had that ability. She wasn't naïve enough to think that everything would get better, either. But she did promise that she would find Luke Skywalker and she knew he would make things right. And the next time she saw that bastard wannabe Dark Side user, she would beat the hell out of him for every single life he'd taken.

She could live with the emptiness in her heart, she could live with the pain of loss, because she knew that every day brought new opportunities, every day brought new faces, new adventures, new possibilities. Every day was a gift, and she would use every gift given to her to find Luke Skywalker and stop the First Order.

* * *

 **Happy All Souls' Day, everyone. :)  
**


End file.
